The metro arrives looking similar/
to that childhood game/
where we had to prevent the ever/
growing snake from eating its own tail.
View (and other poems)
A single ferry leaves this house behind/
toward larger land. The passengers/
imagine their cities as they mute/
into the horizon.
Butterfly Museum at Callaway Gardens (and other poems)
Rows of pinned husks hang/
from hooks, like tools or stolen bones./
But something flops at the base.